


The Mauling at Grissom Academy

by iamocelost



Series: Fanfics My Husband Writes [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Gen, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 05:03:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10678242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamocelost/pseuds/iamocelost
Summary: Shepard chooses a new third teammate. She does better this time.





	The Mauling at Grissom Academy

**Author's Note:**

> AN: This is another fanfic by my husband, which has tickled me to no end. You might want to read his previous work, "If You're Right About Anything, You're Right About That."

“What is that?” Garrus wanted to know.

“That,” said Commander Shepard, her eyes resting on a 600-pound mass of fur that was digging through a vat of creamed corn, “is a bear.”

“Bear.” Garrus let his tongue try out the syllable.

The bear had dipped one massive shovel-like paw elbow-deep in creamed corn and was now licking at its wiry fur in wet slurping sounds. It sneezed slightly, then let out a triumphant snort that sounded like a lawnmower starting. Garrus thought the bear sounded like his aunt, but he didn’t mention this to Shepard.

“This … bear,” he said, “is our third team member.” It wasn’t a question, but it had the tenor of a question.

“Bears are very effective,” Shepard offered.

“It’s certainly effective at ransacking what’s left of the cafeteria.”

Distant gunfire echoed through the halls of Grissom Academy. Everyone froze except for the bear, who was enjoying a third generous helping of creamed corn.

“Do you—” Garrus began, but a second, close-by salvo cut him off and peppered through the cafeteria, exploding half of the food barrel. This seemed to bother the recently content bear, who lurched up with another guttural yawp, this one sounding like an angry lawnmower, or Garrus’s aunt when she was having night terrors. Shepard and Garrus peered out from behind their barrel of what looked and smelled like week-old tilapia fillets. The bear was gone.

A moment passed as Shepard and Garrus exchanged an uncertain glance. Then a man’s voice, muffled, cried out, and they saw their new squad member pulling a Cerberus Assault Trooper into view, the soldier’s flailing prostrate form in tow behind the bear’s corn-splattered maw, which was latched to the trooper’s ankle.

“This is called mauling,” Shepard explained, as they watched what happened next.

And they watched. Garrus was equal parts disgusted and intrigued.

Finally, he made a decision. “I like Bear.”

“Bears.”

“What?”

“You can’t just like ‘bear,’ in the collective, like you can like orange juice or ass.”

“I … I thought you said his name was Bear.”

“No. It’s a bear. A grizzly bear. That’s the type of animal it is.”

“Well, what’s his name?”

“What the fuck kind of question is that?” said Shepard. “Bears don’t have names. They’re bears.”

Rifles armed, they departed from behind the tilapia vat and followed the bear’s lead. The creamed-corn-colored footprints told them the way.


End file.
